


Second Verse

by Sanjuno



Series: Sanjuno's Shamelessly Self-Indulgent Self-Inserts [1]
Category: Sonic the Hedgehog - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Queen Aleena and her magical inheritance, SI!Queen Aleena, Sonic's hydrophobia stems from childhood trauma, Temporary Character Death, The Author Regrets Nothing, Video Game Logic, it's okay they get better, presenting the author's pet headcanon, technically both the narrator and Queen Aleena die in the first page, which the author uses to make a pun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-30 02:55:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18306770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanjuno/pseuds/Sanjuno
Summary: Call it possession. Call it identity theft. Call it a delusion.Whatever terminology used to describe it, the end result would not change. Despite my knowledge of the franchise being woefully out of date, I still remembered enough to know what was coming, and so take steps to prepare for the future.I was a chaos variable to the canon formula, and I intended to take full advantage of that.(Or: Someone very similar to the Author gets metaphysically yote into the body of Aleena Hedgehog while her children are infants and the changes to the universal continuity spiral out from there.)





	Second Verse

**Author's Note:**

> Self Insert fics are a fun writing exercise. I typed this up to clear out the brain-space and it was coherent enough that I though someone else might find it interesting.

=/=

**(Trained responses mean that you do not have to think about the next step in an emergency situation. Take your training seriously kids.)**

The movies lie.

If I had my choice, and had to die of anything other than old age in my sleep, I would rather die of hypothermia. It is actually one of the easier ways to go, from all accounts. ‘Easy’ as in relaxed and non-stressful. Non-violent. First the cold creeps in. Your thoughts slow down. Your body goes numb, and you start to feel warm again. Then you go to sleep, and never wake up. See? Easy.

Drowning is different.

Drowning is a struggle. A fight that you cannot win. Terror and confusion and clawing at any small chance of survival. Drowning is having the nature of the world turn against you. There is water in the body. There is air in the water. You are surrounded by things you need to survive and _they are killing you_. There is too much and not enough. So you thrash and kick and it hurts. It is burning pain and crushing pressure and adrenaline pushing your heart uselessly faster.

The movies lie. Death does not stop the pain.

A word of advice? Do not rent a basement apartment downhill on a flood plane. No matter how much the municipality assures the public that the levies will redirect the water. The flash flood does not give a shit. The flash flood does what it wants. A quarter century of competitive swimming mean jack-all in the face of a current that is lifting cars and tearing up chunks of concrete bigger than I am.

Once again, the movies lie. There should have been a conveniently located branch or boulder. Something solid enough to stand up against the force of the water currents. Something I could use to climb up to higher ground, to get out of the reach of the flood waters.

There was nothing. What there was instead, was shifting darkness and burning cold and tearing forces crushing me down. Down in to the deep and the dark.

I went under.

I did not come back up.

/…/

I was…

… Drifting…

… Dying…

… Fading…

For all I had raged, raged against the dying of the light… I now went gently in to the sweet good night…

It was unfair. I had barely reached my thirties. I had not even had any kids yet…

( **Is that so? Did you want children?** )

Yes, and it was hard for a small scale fashion designer to meet people. I often only left my apartment for work or to restock on food or fabrics. You do not meet many single men in the thread isle of the local craft store, let me tell you. I also had the habit of playing my clarinet when I lack inspiration. It was all very Sherlock Holmes… I even had the fat bulldog… and it had cost me more than one roommate over the years.

( **Ah, well then… perhaps we should fix that. Children are easy, a mate, however…** )

Being an asexual demi-romantic had not helped, to be honest. My mother had never really understood why I didn’t date much. Considering the fact that I counted a pansexual and two hypersexuals among my herd of siblings, my self contentedness looked even more dissociative and antisocial in contrast than my orientation would have otherwise been presented.

( **Well now, that does make things easier. Just relax now, and remember to breathe.** )

I did not want to die. My body was heavy. My limbs would not respond to my brain. I had shit to do. Goals to meet. I wanted to live!

( **Now!** )

/…/

Getitoutgetitout! I needed to breathe!

I rolled over and expelled half the river’s worth of water from my airways. Bile and froth and murky water made a puddle on the soaked grass, and I tried not to think too hard about the whole purging process. Lights were storming over my vision, fireworks celebrating the violent physical effort that was exerted while overcoming death.

Tears of distress blurred what little I could see beyond the purple and green splotches dancing the Lambadi over my optic nerve. A shock blanket fell to the ground as I shoved myself away from the crud I had just ejected from my body in protest of substandard working conditions. Fuck it stank, all stagnant and rotting and…

More flashing lights over that way, these ones from an external source. Yay, rescue services. I could make out the uniforms now, thanks to the shiny caution tape reflections, although my field of vision was doing a drunken-sailor spin and roll that made the EMTs look like the misshapen accident of a bad panorama photo.

( _Something was wrong about this, but I could not think clearly enough to figure out what…_ )

One of the medics was shouting and running at me. Yeah, stupid of me to move but I refused to lay in a puddle of my own sick. I have chugged a bottle of straight tequila and still never sunk that low.

( _…!_ )

My head snapped up. What was that?

( _What was that?_ )

High and piercing and drowned out by the roar of rushing water and the whoop of sirens. Lost and terrified and young and mine!

( _My baby!_ )

My body was moving before I could even realize what I was doing. Bare feet pounding over the muddy bank and the soaked fabric of my dress tangling around my thighs as I rushed upriver. The scenery blurred away and I was moving faster than I ever had even at the highest point of my track career. There was a tug in my chest, pulling me closer to where the cry originated.

( _Not my babies! Not my babies, please!_ )

It was an out of body experience in first person, like the cut scene in a video game. It did not matter which buttons I mashed, this sequence was going to play out just as the script writer intended.

( _Please, oh Chaos, please! I cannot lose my babies!_ )

There was a safety cordon up ahead, blocking access to the now flooded causeway that led from the access highway to the center of town. I did not slow. If anything I sped up, vaulting the barricade and landing on the flat top of the cement safety rail. Water sprayed up in my wake as I bolted away from the hands trying to hold me back. There was a flatbed truck halfway through the rail at around the midpoint, and I hit it at a full out run.

Bed. Cab hood. Launch. One of the Search and Rescue guys saw me and just about fell out of the air.

( _An albatross. That man had feathers. Wings. I was far too high on adrenaline to rationalize away my hallucinations._ )

Obviously I had lost the plot entirely. I was suffering from some sort of extreme PTSD reflex due to my near death by drowning experience. I saw the light, okay, and obviously I was not just going to be able to walk that off. However, when my great uncle took my siblings and I up to the old lumber yard and taught us how to burl, I doubt this was what he expected me to do with my log riding lessons.

( _The trick is to keep moving. If you stop you fall. Surface tension is the key…_ )

It was like a cheat code in a video game. The path I needed to take lit up in glowing emerald green and all I needed to do was get the timing right. My feet were bare, everything was slick with water and silt, and I had no hook pole to help me catch debris or balance.

( _I was still going to die again, but at least I was going to go out like a motherfucking ninja badass._ )

Extreme log riding for the suicidal, I invented it that day. It was me. Water and debris crashed around me like something out of a war movie, and still I could hear that wail on the wind. Nothing could stop me from answering that call.

( _My bones felt hollow. My blood felt like fire. I was too strong. Too fast. Too light on my feet. No matter how well I timed it, some of those planks should have sunk under my weight._ )

I was launching myself in to the air again arms coming up to cover my head as I ducked and tucked and crashed through a second storey window just barely above the level reached by the flood waters. I hit the water inside the house in a spray of glass shards and wooden splinters and an splashed-up curtain of water. A rolling tumble and I was up and on my feet and moving again in moments.

( _If I stop, if I hesitate, I know I won’t be able to keep moving._ )

The water was up above my knees, but thankfully mostly still. I could hear the crying more clearly now. Raw and harsh and exhausted, oh the poor baby.

( _My poor baby. Do not worry darling, Mama’s coming._ )

I slogged across the hall into the nursery. Thank the higher powers for the plastic coating that came standard on most infant mattress pads. The water-tight foam was acting like a life raft, rising with the water level. The blankets were soaked, and only one of the triplets was still shivering. I could see the blue lips from the doorway… oh Chaos, let them still be breathing.

( _Drowning is not the only way water can kill._ )

A baby sling was ripped off the hook on the door and I was buckling it on even as I crossed to the crib. One and two and three kits in the basket and I twisted the sling around so the babies were on my back. I needed my hands free to catch us if things got dicey.

( _I have you now, my darlings. Mama’s here._ )

Then it was out the skylight and up on to the roof and I was really starting to feel the burn in my limbs. The adrenaline would wear off soon and I just hoped I could get us all back to shore before I gave in and collapsed.

( _I will have a hysterical breakdown later. After I have eaten. And had a nap. If I can find the time._ )

“… Ma’am. Please don’t move.” The Albatross from before landed on the roof a few meters away from me, and then a Kingfisher landed a few steps further away. They were both wearing S&R uniforms and harnesses. I stared, because they were fucking bipedal, anthromorphic talking birds. What the ever-loving fuck? Beady bird eyes flicked up to look over my shoulder as my brave little crier whimpered. “Please try to remain calm, Ma’am. You’ve got your chicks, yeah? All safe and sound. Why don’t you let my partner and I take you back to the shore now.”

“Ah…” All at once I could feel the ragged edge to my breathing, tasting blood with every shuddering gasp, and shit, I was freezing. With a convulsive shudder I nodded in agreement and stepped forward, taking the offered hand ( _wing? What terminology was even used here_ ) and letting the birds strap me into the carry harness. The baby sling was twisted around to rest against my front, and I wrapped my arms around my children as we were all lifted away from the roof.

It was starting to hit me, just what it was I had done. Flying bird-alien people aside, I had just turned a flood torrent in to my personal boogie-board obstacle course. To save my babies, who I had never seen before, from a house I had likewise never been inside before, but that I had somehow known the exact layout of. What the fucking hell?

It had been instinctive. Every action. Every impulse. Some sort of subliminal knowledge acting as my guide. Then there was my sudden aptitude for extreme to the point of death-defying athleticism. This was… this was crazy. Insane. Nonsensical.

( _Or I was, and none of it had actually happened. Oh Auntie Em, I had a dream. You were there, and you were there, and you…_ )

That was when I noticed that my arm was purple. Not purple with cold, but actually covered with a pelt of fine purple hair. Fur? Slicked down with water, but dense and plush as good quality, heavy velvet. My ears twitched, set higher on my head than I remembered them being. I shook my head, trying to achieve some kind of clarity of thought, and heard the rattle of quills. Yay, summer camp arts and crafts. Hollow cartilage tubes make a very distinct noise when tapped together, making them easy to identify by sound. A seemingly useless skill that let me figure out what was growing out of my scalp now. Hooray.

( _Welcome to Wonderland, Alice. We are all mad here…_ )

Biting my lip with teeth that were sharper than I was expecting, all thin points, I shifted my bundle of babies enough to actually look at them properly. Colour coded onesies with little hoods. Blue and pink and green, and I blinked in a futile attempt the dispel the illusion in front of me.

I knew those faces.

( _I loved them, my sweet babies._ )

One of my favourite cartoon shows from when I was younger. One of the few that had ‘teenage’ characters more focused on family than romance. A show that I still watched a few episodes of, from time to time, whenever I needed a stress-free emotional pick-me-up. A show with a good, solid message of positivity and acceptance. I loved that show. I loved the characters.

( _Sweet Chaos, this was incredible._ )

This was impossible, but I could not deny the truth of what my senses were telling me.

I was holding Sonic, Sonia, and Manic from the Sonic the Hedgehog franchise Sonic Underground cartoon series in my arms. My purple arms…

( _…?_ )

… Holy shit flinging monkeys. Was I Aleena? Was I motherfucking Queen Aleena? No, wait. The birds had not recognized me, and Aleena had been established as a planetary ruler, and that house was no palace… but then again, Aleena had run off to the amazing vanishing village to birth her kids in the cartoon. Had that happened again? Still did not explain why no one had recognized my face…

( _Oh, wait… the multiverse theory was canonically applied to all Sonic the Hedgehog continuities. There were crossovers between the different titles in the series and everything._ )

I suppose my recognisance all depended on which Sonic Universe I had landed in. Underground was the only verse to canonically name one of Sonic’s parents, but that did not mean Aleena was not Sonic’s mother in all the verses. Chances are Aleena was still… shit. No wonder Sonic had hydrophobia in every canon ever.

( _Was I really just going to accept being in a cartoon world? What if this was all just a dying hallucination? I should be trying harder to wake up, right?_ )

Shit, there was no way to know how this timeline in particular would run. Underground seemed unlikely, given the lack of recognition, but could not be ruled out entirely just yet. Then there was, fuck me… Archie Comics, X, Adventures, Heroes, the old school Saturday AM cartoon from when I was a kid, serialized adaptations, the multitude of different video games, and more I was probably forgetting.

( _… Fuck this, if I ran in to Robotnik at any point I was going to shank the fat fucker in the face. No way were my adorable little hedgie babies doing the hero thing before they finished puberty. Or whatever the Mobian equivalent of legal age was._ )

/…/

I would not realize it until later, but I had become something of an over-night sensation. One enterprising vulture with a live-streaming news camera had caught my whole headlong kamikaze adventure on tape.

Including the part when I woke up and puked, the asshole, but that was also the part that got me so much attention. Now, some of the still frames made me look especially badass and hardcore to the max, but, well… remember the shock blanket? I had not been under a blanket so much as in a… bag.

A body bag, to be more precise.

Yeah, the S&R team took us all back to the same place where I had first woken up after reviving, and from the air I could see it. The line of recovered drowning victims, their bags only partially zipped for ease of identification, and the gap in the line. The crumpled, discarded bag by a churned patch of mud.

Hm. Apparently I had pulled an independent Lazarus with Aleena’s meatsuit.

… Oops? Should I be sorry? I mean, in most of the series canons Sonic is an orphaned only child with severe hydrophobia. If that commonality stemmed from a similar point of origin in each universe then I had just saved Sonic from a lot of heartache and loneliness and foster care homes.

Fuckity. I wonder if I was supposed to know Charles yet… Is the relation on my side or the triplet’s father’s side? Sonic usually seems to be adopted by his Uncle Chuck at one point or another whenever a series deigns to give our Hedgehog hero some form of back-story.

We landed, and I was hustled off by some rather wide eyed medics. I hurt everywhere, the cold was starting to get to me, and I was confused as fuck all, but I was also insufferably pleased with myself. I mean, it sucked major balls that my family was going to think I was dead, and given the situation I was about ninety percent certain that my last body was all dead, no take backs no refunds or further exchanges, but! I got to do the video game character hero thing and saved the main protagonists of the universal narrative from watery doom!

Motherfucker, I was punch-drunk.

( _Thank the Chaos gods that I had been too busy tripping balls from the cross-dimensional post-revivification rush to worry about silly things like thinking about what I was doing while I was in the process of retrieving the triplets._ )

The triplets and I were hustled off into one of the air-evacuation ambulances and rushed to the nearest hospital with room. I did not mind, really. The faster the babies got taken care of the better. Sonic’s super-speed had been the only thing keeping him functional enough to cry. It was physics! Shivering is the body’s way of trying to produce heat via friction. Shivering done at super-speed actually serves it’s intended purpose. Sonia and Manic on the other hand…

“Give me the motherfucking heat pack before I gut you and warm my children in your steaming corpse!” I was very calm and rational about dealing with the symptoms of hypothermia and exposure. Ask anyone.

Thankfully the blue was fading from their lips, and Sonia was even starting to move a little. Sonic had yet to stop screaming now that he was warming up, the mouthy little shit. I kept most of my attention on Manic with a sense of acute paranoia. There was a ‘runt’ in every litter, and mine was Manic. My younger son was a fighter though, and a few minutes after Sonia started squeaking Manic shivered and opened his eyes with a whine of discomfort.

“… I thought hedgehogs were a prey species?” The spaniel EMT looked a bit spooked.

… Hm. Come to think of it, now that I was no longer distracted by other things, I did kind of show up all these trained professionals. They were probably scared I would get it into my head to take off again. No wonder they had packed my purple butt off to the hospital ASAP.

/…/

Alongside the photographic documentation of my ‘daring rescue’, there was a picture of me-as-Aleena curled around the triplets with an achingly relieved smile on my face. It made the front page of all the papers. All of them. Along with an image of me riding a snapped telephone pole like a surfboard. Needless to say I had a lot of interview offers once the news broke.

Given I had no sweet clue what sort of disaster insurance Aleena had on her house, and with the mess the flood had left behind it was going to take a while for the lawyers to sort everything out, to say nothing of the insurance claims… I agreed. Of course I agreed. Fuck, I had three babies to take care of. We needed the money. The Mobian banking system was just different enough from what I was used to that I was constantly mixing things up.

Of course, I had conditions. I stipulated that my acceptance of any offer was contingent on the various magazines and talk shows not only providing me with room, meals, and childcare, but they also had to do advertising for the Emerald Hills Flood Relief Fund. Hey, good PR is good PR. A pretty face can only get you so far. Although thankfully the plot had provided Aleena with fairy tale princess levels of pretty, so I was damn photogenic. Positive public opinion takes you even further than a pretty face does. So I put my company face on and smiled, smiled, smiled nice for the cameras. I was sweet and kind and downright motherfucking demure.

They ate it up with a spoon.

By the time the furor over what I had done had died down and my seven minutes of fame were up. I had a nice nest egg put aside. The joy of having frugal tastes plus having all my expenses paid for by various studios and publishers during my ‘tell us did you see the light’ world tour. Not having to spend any of my own money on food, room, transport, or childcare services saved me a small fortune over the course of the year and change following my resurrection.

I do not know if it was good news or not, but Aleena’s husband Jules had died before the triplets were born. I mean, it was sad that the kids would never know their dad, but I was personally relieved not to have to ‘be in love’ with a character who had never been characterized at all beyond a name and plot function. So everyone ‘understood my feelings’ when I sold the house in Emerald Hills and moved away.

I had kids to raise, a possible robot uprising to circumvent, and the last thing I needed was for someone to notice how much ‘Aleena’ had changed.

/…/

So despite my current incarnation as a bipedal magic Hedgehog maybe-Queen, there were a few hard-line tenets of reality that I could not escape. Like taxes, identity paperwork, a bank account, and diaper duty. To stop avoiding the subject, my little misadventure in to the drowning deep had damaged my lungs. I still had my sparkly magic fairy powers, but I had to be careful to avoid allergens and respiratory infections. That meant cold damp weather was the devil and to be avoided at all costs.

Luckily most of my lung function would return with time and care taken with my health. Given how much money was still rolling in from ‘selling my story’, I could take my time and pick the perfect place without worrying about getting a job for at least a few years. As long as I refrained from going crazy and buy a castle I was set. My best bet would be to buy a place that paid for itself. Some kind of working farm, maybe? That way by the time I started thinking about getting a different sort of job I could probably work from home.

I sighed and tossed the realtor adds away and flopped down on the hotel bed. The triplets were fed and sleeping in their portable crib. Thank Chaos for parenting guides. The life and health section of the Mobian bookstore was _huge_ , catch-all books shoved aside for species-specific lexicons. Given the way Mobian Species Primogeniture worked I suppose being a single parent might end up being unexpectedly more difficult than usual.

To understand my point, imagine being a bird trying to raise a fish baby after an ill-advised one night stand. Yeah. Like that. So, given my still very human-oriented mindset, I had grabbed the medical text about Hedgehog anatomy and development in addition to a three year parenting guide with in-depth information on the Hedgehog-specific infant growth stages. The triplets were only about two months old when the flood hit, which had been a bit awkward for me, what with the whole nursing mammal… thing. Unlike a regular non-person-shaped hedgehog, I only had the two teats, and with three kids things could get a wee bit hectic come around mealtimes.

Damned if I was switching the babies to formula though. Considering the shenanigans these kids would grow up to get into they would need all the health benefits they could get.

I was not going to worry too much about the future though. I had at best estimate either one, seven, or fifteen years until Robotnik started his quest for global domination, and with the babies as young as they were there was nothing I could do about it. Hell, I was not even certain that this Universe would go to pot. It might not. I could have landed in one of the worlds where nothing interesting happens. Or where Robotnik is the good guy…

… Yeah, I know. Unlikely as fuck all, but a lady can dream.

Aside from a minor wiggins-fit during that never again to be mentioned first breastfeeding session, I had mostly come to terms with my new situation. See, the funny thing about being Aleena was that I could still recognize _myself_ in the mirror. Sure, my eyes were magic-spell green and larger than I was used to, but my night vision was amazing now. The mane of purple quills was actually easier to maintain than my hair had been, even if it was slightly longer and significantly heavier. The thick, dense pelt of eggplant coloured fur meant clothing was entirely optional. Which, I will be honest here, I had to lock myself in a bathroom and giggle until I _cried_ the first time I saw a Mobian in civilian-casual wear. Socks and gloves were considered an outfit! Sweet little glowing crystal this fucking _world_.

I had been proud of the condition of my old body. I had the benefit of good genes and put the socially required amount of effort into maintaining my physical health. My one nod to vanity had been my hair, three feet long and religiously maintained. That aside, however, I was never one of those make-up every day women, so the change in my species did not bother me overmuch.

I was still _me_ after all. I think therefore I am.

As a side benefit, this new body came with an inbuilt connection to the triplets. I had not even had to do the whole pregnancy and childbirth… thing, but I still got to experience the mother-child bond from the mother side of the equation.

Thank Chaos I had an intuitive knowledge and instinctive control of Aleena’s inborn powers, because raising three super-powered babies was hell, I shit you not. If it was not Sonic rolling off the changing table at Mach Two it was Sonia ripping the heads off her stuffies and _Manic_. Mother of Mayhem, let me tell you something about Manic. When the wiki said that Manic was the only sibling _without_ a superpower? _They lied_.

Manic had the ability to find physical shatterpoints. A few whacks and boom. Explosion. Manic threw a temper tantrum and the linoleum exploded.

So yeah. Motherhood was a bit of a learning experience, but I was doing fine.

/…/

“Greetings, your Grace.” The voice echoed through the room, and the air vibrated. There was a noise that sort of went ‘ _vrrp_ ’ with an accompaniment of muffled wind chimes, and then I was no longer alone in the room. The hunched, hooded figure folded his stick-fingered hands together and smiled at me. “Congratulations on your survival, your Grace. I take it your new incarnation agrees with you?”

“You’re the… Oracle of Delphius. You know about, well, about _me_ , don’t you.” I eyed the chuckling seer and frowned. I had wondered if the prophet would bother to visit me in this verse. Visit Aleena, that is to say. I had no kingdom in this world, and thus there was no reason for Robotnik (or any other villain, for that matter) to target me or my children. If this whiney-voiced asshole tried to tell me to abandon my babies to the whimsies of cruel fate I was gonna shank a bitch so _hard_. I stood, slow and threatening as I was able, and bared my teeth in a grin that felt like a snarl. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“Why, to congratulate you, your Grace!” The Oracle chuckled again and sank back on his heels enough for me to see his the gleam of his eyes under the shadowing hood. “Tir-na-hog has long awaited the return to the Rightful Ruling Bloodline, and thanks to the recent awakening of your Chaos Gifts… the crown is yours, should you wish to claim it, your Grace.”

“Tir-na… hog? Like… Underhill?” I frowned, I could not help it despite my determination to keep a straight face, and the Oracle nodded. For those not conversant in old Celtic mythology, Tir-na-nog is best summarized as Fairyland. There are a couple of different ways to think about it. Underhill, Neverland, Avalon, Wonderland… just to name a few places of magic that are connected to but are not a real part of the mortal plane. It was a surprise, to be honest. Underground’s mythology was mostly Middle Eastern with a sprinkle of Egyptian and Aztec accents. Tir-na-nog is distinctly Celtic. More in line with the me I was pre-Aleena-takeover, sure, but I had mostly been taking my action cues from my spotty memories of the cartoon. Wait…

Underground. Under _hill_. Oh, someone thinks he is _funny_. “What will happen if I don’t take up the crown, Oracle?”

“Nothing too horrible, your Grace. We will simply wait for your children to reach the appropriate age and offer the same to them.” The Oracle was still smiling, and something about that expression made me wary. “Of course, the Royal Family is not without enemies, and now that you have opened yourself to Chaos those enemies will be able to track you. If nothing else, the resources of the Crown will provide you with a measure of security.”

Fuck, fuck, fuckity-fuck. He was talking about the Courts. Traditionally it would be Summer and Winter, but if I am a Chaos-aligned Queen then my opposite is probably… “The Order Court would do that? Hunt us even if we don’t say yes?”

“Oh, they would indeed.” The Oracle looked delighted. “I must say, your Grace, when I guided your soul here out of the Void I was wary. You, however, have surpassed even my wildest expectations.”

… Bets on whether this motherfucker can read my mind? Fuck, I have got a brand new sympathy for every character who has ever had to negotiate with a psychic. “You’re the one who brought me here? Who made me look like this? Why? Why me, why not the _real_ Aleena, and why are you only showing up now?”

“Why… because you were _there_ , your Grace, and I wished to see what would come of it.” The Oracle chuckled, and I was getting _real tired_ of that sound. Damn, but I could see the Chaotic Alignment influence on his reasoning. Why-the-fuck-not tended to be a common motivator for Chaotic personality types. “Would you rather I had not, and left you drowning in the Void?”

“No. No, I’m quite happy to still be breathing, thank you.” Time to actually think this clusterfuck through. Did I want to deal with assassination attempts on my own? Fuck no. Did I know anything about ruling a kingdom? Also fuck no. Was I going to take over anyway? You bet your sweet ass I was. Damn it though, I had honestly thought that this verse was a tech oriented one. GUN was a thing, so I assumed that I would be seeing Shadow at some point, but that should have indicated Chaos Powers being a mutation thing. The existence of the Oracle and his talk of Tir-na-hog meant magic existed on a level more along the mysticism of the Underground continuity. Fuck me but my head hurt. Oh well, time to fake it until I made it and see where it would take me. I met the Oracle’s beady eyes and grinned with all my teeth. “Alright, Oracle. You’ve usually got your reasons for meddling this much, so I’ll play along for now. Just to warn you though, if my babies get hurt because of this I will be very angry, and I will kill you slowly.”

The ambient temperature plummeted, and I could see my breath mist on the exhale of my threat. The Oracle had finally stopped his aggravating smiling, his eyes wide and terrified as my shadow grew larger, looming and writhing up the walls like an unnamed horror. Oh _neat_ , I could do the Hannya-mask thing! I love that thing! Force of personality for the win! I am going to have to practice my Smiling Aura of Doom if I want to be the _fun_ kind of Dread Queen. This is the best thing.

“Of – of course, your Grace. I would never dare to bring harm to your royal heirs.” The Oracle was visibly sweating, his face pale and shocked. Hah, he should have paid a bit more attention to exactly _what kind_ of soul he was yanking out of the Void. There was a _reason_ Chaos is usually the bad guy, after all.

“Excellent. Okay!” I clapped my hands and grinned even wider. “So, what do I have to do to claim the Crown of Tir-na-hog?”

The Oracle sighed in relief as the temperature went back to normal. “Well, your Grace, it’s really quite simple…”

=/=

**Author's Note:**

> No, I'm probably not going to write more as I would prefer to focus on my other fics. ^_^


End file.
